


Fear and Loathing in the Late Night

by Timegal25



Series: Timegal25's Solo Works [4]
Category: Hunter S. Thompson - Fandom, Persona 4, Persona 4(Kinda), Persona x Detective Naoto
Genre: Don't know what to tag when you have a character that exists but you know nothing about, Fear and Loathing, Gen, Gonzo Journalism, I don't know how to tag this, Journalism, Original Character(s), Tags say it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timegal25/pseuds/Timegal25
Summary: What originally was supposed to be a story covering current politics instead turned into this. We apologize to all readers who wanted a story on political corruption.





	Fear and Loathing in the Late Night

It was another late night for me. I was work from my apartment for the night, with the TV on as I worked at your type writer. It was most likely some kind of political thing, most likely related to the prime minister or something along those lines. I had deadlines to make, and I wasn't famous so I couldn't miss them. Working for a magazine was serious business, especially one that constantly tried to make strong political statements and be supposedly 'independent' from the main stream life.  
I was covered in large amounts of sweat and my shirt had basically become see through due to all of it being a makeshift towel. It was a hot summer night, and that was one of the worst nights to work. A drink that wasn't properly chilled for me would always burn my throat in this weather. I was going to install my air conditioner later, but for now, it was just the fan going at top speed and a plastic water bottle.  
As I worked, I heard something from nearby. Couldn't tell what, was guessing it was the TV. I continued working, but the more I did, the louder the sound became. It wasn't coming from TV, but somewhere outside the window. I slowly walked over to it, curious. I was going to hate this, but I forced open the window, the humid air hitting me in the face. Christ, I felt like I was going to melt. This heat temporarily left my mind as I head from my window. "Stop screaming you goddamn faggot!", and "I'm gonna break your fucking face!". There was loud screaming as well. Of course, some punks were viciously beating and assaulting some poor kid.  
As someone who worked out in the field as a requirement for my job, I was used to seeing this shit. It rarely happened outside my apartment building. I knew no one here was going to call the cops, as they were scared shitless that the fuckers would come in here, and also that the cops would get here too late. I sighed and ran to the bedroom and got out my revolver and loaded it with 3 bullets. I ran to the window and got onto the fire escape.  
"Back off the kid!", I shouted trying my hardest to sound like a big person and not like a journalist covered in sweat. I ran down and got onto the ground as I saw two kids with masks on, a young bad brutally beaten on the ground in front of me. He was in a pool of his own blood at this point. I held out my gun. "Back away now before I shoot!" One of the punks made a dry laugh. "We aren't afraid of a bitch like you!" He wasn't laughing when one of my bullets lodged into his shoulder, causing him to cry in pain. "Get the fuck out of here, before I aim for your head!" That scared them off. They could smash an innocent, but the second someone else is holding a weapon, they run like injured dogs.  
I ran over to the kid, his body twitching and his face seemingly smashed in. He looked like utter hell, and that was to be expected. I lifted him up, slowly and walked him to my car. I got him in the back seat, not caring about the blood getting on my seats, and drove him to the hospital. The kid was lucky to be alive, with a lot of parts of his body either badly damaged or just broken. His chest took the worst beating, with a ton of ribs being broken, and only barely being missed by a cinder block. I sat with him in his hospital room as we watched TV for a bit. He was on life support and barely scrapping by. The young man was also a tourist, with no family in this country. He looked miserable from what remained of his face. I've heard the horror stories of what people had to go through in Vietnam, with the unrelenting heat, and fear of death and being left to rot. If I had come in just a bit later or hadn't at all, the poor kid would've suffered his own Vietnam in this heat wave.  
I got up to leave after a while, and as I did so, the kid pulled something out of his pocket and tried to give it to me. It was a cassette tape. Did he want me to have this? His body language was telling me yes, but also that he wanted me to read the title. It was an American song, but with my little understanding of the language I could read 'Suicide is Painless'. I got the message. He was taken off life support and died soon after. They told me they would try to notify his family, and I believed them. I now sit back at my type writer, the cassette playing over and over on my machine. It's an American song, with both a somber and an uplifting tone to it. I don't understand most of the words to it, but I don't really care. I should've written about politics and the scandals....but that is for another day. There is no real point to this story. It just starts and ends. I'll take that over the mess that is politics any day, I suppose.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this strange story. I tried hard to emulate the style of Hunter S. Thompson and I hope I did a decent job at the very least. And if you know of tags that are better fitting for this story, please let me know.


End file.
